


Just Dessert

by anemptymargin



Series: Journey-Verse [6]
Category: Psych
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s one dessert that even Lassiter’s bottomless pit will avoid… fruitcake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Dessert

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Older-Not-Dead](http://older-not-dead.livejournal.com/) \- ?/?, fruitcake

“What is that?” Carlton frowned, looking down into the dessert plate that had been set in front of him; “You promised me dessert.”

 

“It’s fruitcake. Try it, you’ll like it.” Henry stood beside him, already nibbling on a large piece.

 

“Nobody likes fruitcake,” he paused a moment and added; “except you.”

 

Henry mirrored his frown; “Clearly they haven’t had my fruitcake. I use dried fruit, not candied, and I soak it in brandy. Take a bite.”

 

Carlton regarded the slice of cake, craftily obscured by a large dollop of cinnamon dusted Cool-Whip that almost hid the nefarious dessert. “It’s nothing personal, but I’ll pass.”

 

Henry groaned, “Come on, Johnny Carson makes one crack about it and suddenly everyone jokes about fruitcake doorstops.” He broke off a large piece of his own un-topped slice and took a big bite. “My fruitcake is light, fluffy, sweet, and nutty. It’s delicious.”

 

“You have to say that, you made it.” Carlton shook his head and stood up from the table; “I think I’m gonna go tuck in to the Little House marathon…”

 

“It’s Sunday.”

 

Carlton paused, a wry smile curling his lips, “Oh, you’re good…” He turned toward Henry, both hands on his hips. “So, what? You’re throwing down that gauntlet now?”

 

“Consider it thrown, you don’t even give it a chance and we’ll see how long it takes you to crack. There’s enough brandy in this to keep it tasty at least two months.”

 

Lassiter’s eyes narrowed and he raised a thick eyebrow; “You don’t have it in you to go without, old man. I am a sexual camel… I can go two months.”

 

Henry snorted, holding back a smirk; “Sexual camel? Really, mister two nights a week without fail – even when you were coming off a thirty-six hour shift – can go two months? I’d like to see you try.”

 

“I give you two weeks before you’re begging.”

 

“Need I remind you that I’ve gone longer than most presidential administrations?” Henry shook his head and walked away with his mostly eaten slice, settling onto the sofa before putting up his feet. “I think there’s some vanilla wafers in the pantry.”

 

He pouted; “Those aren’t dessert until you combine them with banana pudding and whipped cream.”

 

“You know where the kitchen is.” Henry made a show of turning on the television and switching past Little House to some trashy reality show he could sleep through.

 

Threatening sex was one thing… but no dessert? That was pure evil. “You promised dessert…”

 

“And I made dessert. This isn’t a diner.”

 

Carlton sighed and looked back down at the dense cake, the whipped topping was already soaking into the small crevices between a network of various dry fruit looking bits and walnuts. “Who puts fruit in cake, anyway? If I wanted fruit, I’d eat fruit.”

 

“If it helps you cope, you can think of it as a pie.”

 

 Lassiter groaned under his breath and sat back down, picking up the fork.  He stared back at the fruitcake and muttered; “I’ve lived off my ex-wife’s cooking. You don’t scare me, you little brown bastard.”

 

“Are you talking to the fruitcake?” Henry called back, shaking his head; “Maybe you two aren’t so different… bit fruity, nuts…”

 

“Shut up, old man. This is between me and the fruitcake. I’ll conquer it and then I’m taking you upstairs for my prize.”

 

“Can’t wait,” Henry finished off his second piece and set aside the empty plate before stretching his legs out on the couch, “you’re missing Little House.”

 

“Michael Landon understands.” He dredged his fork through the thick layer of topping, eating it off in three large bites so he could get a good view of the offender. “Just me and you, fruitcake. You’re not so intimidating… what’re those, raisins?”

 

“Dates. And cherries, apricots, and figs.”

 

“Mmm, figs?” He raised an eyebrow and licked his lower lip, he liked figs… they were a good, misunderstood fruit. “And cinnamon?”

 

“You bet.” Henry answered, his lips stretching with a slow smile. “And I used that cherry brandy…”

 

“Oooh…” he speared the slice and cut away a small square – still suspicious of its true flavor. “And you’re sure I’ll like it?”

 

Henry sighed; “I’m sure.”

 

After a long pause, Carlton stabbed the piece through a soft bit of fruit and then ate it, chewing very slowly and analyzing the flavor-texture experience. Clearly surprised that he’d given in, Henry got back up and made his way to the table before Carlton swallowed.

 

“And?” Henry asked cautiously.

 

“And it’s not terrible.” Carlton cut off a slightly larger piece; “Fruity, maybe a bit too heavy for my taste.”

 

Henry watched in stunned silence as he finished off the piece in another three bites. “You want another piece?”

 

“God no,” he shook his head and grimaced. “But, I will take my prize.” His lips twisted to wry grin and he gave a hard tug at the hem of Henry’s Hawaiian shirt, pulling him down for a gentle kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


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